One Word
by began-to-climb
Summary: The day of Denny's funeral is dark and ominious for a one Izzie Stevens. What's more is, she hasn't found his box yet. Oneshot, Dizzie


**Name: **One Word

**Rating: **PG

**Summary: **The day of Denny Duquette's funeral arrives dark and woeful. His fiancée stands in the front row, huddled in between friends, forcing herself not to break. A white cloth draped over her aura, she surrenders to the room she fell for him. It is there that she finds a letter written by her beloved; will she rethink her decision?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters.

**Authors Note: **I cried for probably ten minutes after seeing Denny die. I really loved Denny and to have him die so suddenly just when everything was perfect just killed me. To have Izzie finally find someone who loved her, to find that one person, to have that person ask her to marry him, then to snatch him away…what fairness is that?

XXXX

Isabel Stevens' eyes collapsed. The brown spheres fell away from the reality in front of her, the reality that was so harsh and brutal that she didn't have anymore strength to fight it. Heat rimmed the bottom lid as liquid flooded the capsule, prepared to break the solid dame. She inhaled and the tears were sucked away, for how long she didn't know. A gust of autumn wind washed over her, causing goosebumps to rise in a parade of visible lumps. She shade of the large tree made it feel colder than it actually was. She shivered.

The freshly cut grass was moist underneath her naked feet, the green blades cutting in between her toes, except it didn't bother her. The feel of the plant leaves poking her had a first, but now she was oblivious to the feeling. In truth, she couldn't feel much of anything. Her black heels, a simple pair with barely any height, clinked together in her hand, her fingers hooked around the straps that were meant to enclose her toes. She tugged her small shrug tighter over her shoulders, hiding any inch of skin that the spaghetti strap dress left exposed, just as the wind reached her. A strand of curled blonde hair shadowed her face.

The priest paused for a moment, taking in a breath and roving over the bundle before him. He frowned, his eyes settling on the young former doctor. There was no sun to light her normally bright face; today she needed the warmth for she appeared dead to the crowd. Izzie kept her eyes trained on the gravestones in front of her, barely listening to the priest reciting the overused passages used for this type of ceremony. She refused to look at the coffin not ten inches from her; she couldn't. If she did it'd be all too real and she wasn't ready to face this dismal reality just yet. This reality without Denny Duquette.

It'd been four days since she'd found him, cold and pale, in his hospital bed. What had been a joyous day full of acceptances and prom lights and gowns had turned to a tsunami of pain and tears and failure. One minute he had this tremendously huge smile on his face as she said yes to his marriage proposal and the next he was white without a single hint of human emotion sketched into his face. She swallowed the lump in her throat; just thinking about that night and the after-effects was too unbearable.

She'd fallen in love with this man, ready to take on a new life that would begin with their wedding day. But, lying on the bed, nestled tightly beside his body, she'd given up. She'd quit life, quit finding love, and quit her dream of being a doctor. She'd given up, she'd surrendered…she was a failure. She would've made her family proud. How could this hurt so much?

She suddenly realized that the priest had stopped talking and people were pulling away from the darkness. Her family was still beside her. Meredith Grey cast a look at George O'Malley opposite her. The woman wrapped her arms around Izzie's shoulders, lacing her fingers together to hold her friend to her, giving her comfort. Cristina Yang gripped her boyfriend's hand, not looking into his ebony face. Izzie glanced around, observing her surroundings and who was still within. Derek Shepard and his wife, Addison, were standing off in the distance. The redhead was fixated in her conversation with Chief Webber while Derek was focused on Meredith. The brunette woman hadn't talked to him in days, not since prom night. Izzie didn't know and she didn't care anymore. She tucked her chin in, her fingers moving to touch the velvet of her lips.

"You going to be okay?" she heard Meredith ask.

Izzie looked at her and flashed her a fake smile of certainty. Her cheeks were already stained, a single tear trilling down. "No, I won't." She wouldn't lie.

"We'll give you some time alone…with him." George offered.

Izzie nodded, breaking out of Meredith's hold to hug him. When she released him, the group dissembled, leaving her with a last moment with Denny. She took a step forward and fell to her knees before the closed casket. She reached out and grazed her hands over the polished oak. The sleekness made her almost forget who was inside. Then again, she knew she'd never forget.

When she'd gotten home after the prom, nearly seven hours later, she'd plummeted into a depression. After stripping off her gown and taking a long bath, she'd locked herself in her room for days. She refused to leave her room or talk to anyone. The only time she did exit was to use the restroom or to grab a drink from the kitchen. In silence she'd worked out all of the funeral plans, become self-sufficient because as far as she knew, she was his family. She didn't eat, didn't share the emotions building a wall around her heart…the only thing that could be heard outside her bedroom walls was the soft sound of her crying. Denny had broken her—she'd broken herself.

Her lips connected with the wood of the coffin. Pursed lipstick marked it. Izzie lay her forehead on the coffin, closing her eyes. For a brief second, she could feel him there with her. He was knelt beside her, hand on the small of her back, chin rested on her shoulder as he whispered in her ear. Her lip trembled. "I love you too."

XXXX

Seattle Grace Hospital was exactly as she'd left it. Even isolated in the locker room, depleting any forgotten objects into her bag, she could hear the world through the thin walls. The wail of sirens as an ambulance pulled in the front, the thunder as helicopter blades sliced the air, the yells from residents and attendings to the interns and nurses, the drone of beepers as they went off…the crying of torn families being told of their loss.

Izzie stared at the confinement, a rectangular metal space that had barely fit her belongings, until she heard the door open. She ignored it. She pulled a book out and stared at it. _The Once and Future King._ She'd let Denny borrow it once so he'd have something to do; he'd only returned it a week ago. The footsteps closed in, tracking through the maze of identical lockers, but she didn't look up. She assumed it was just some intern, who'd left something, except it wasn't.

Dr. Bailey rounded the last corner, hearing a locker slam shut, and stopped short. Izzie was turned to the bench knocking at the back of her legs, placing the bag on her shoulder. She straightened, prepped to leave this place forever, then stopped.

Dr. Bailey took a breath, avoiding Izzie's eye. "There's a box of Denny's things in the room he was in. We didn't want to throw them out; we figured you'd want them, being his fiancée and everything."

Izzie bit the inside of her lip, swallowing a retort, but merely nodded her head. Dr. Bailey nodded in recognition then left; the door swayed shut behind her evanescent presence.

Izzie didn't move an inch. A box of his things? What did he possibly leave behind? She'd find out. She trooped down the white hall to the elevators, watching as one closed shut, making the pack inside disappear. She didn't even attempt to catch it. She didn't have the energy. She shouldered her bag further and pushed the button to go up. She watched the numbers light as they ascended onto her floor number. The silver doors opened. An empty box was exposed. She stepped inside and thumbed the floor number. It took all of her to not break into tears again, to not let herself thread through all that could be in that box. She didn't want to think about it. She had no idea what was there. She'd have to wait.

The employees on the floor openly stared at her as she strolled through, though she avoided eye contact with every one of them. Her eyes marked sadness and pain; her soul was dying every step closer to _that_ room. The room itself was silent when she walked in, exactly how it had once been. The bed was still facing the door, now stripped of all linens, and machines still surrounded it. The air was sterile. It had been cleaned, whipped clear of the last resident.

Izzie looked around then her eyes settled on a box rested in a chair in the corner. It was an ordinary box; just five folds of cardboard shaped into a container. Izzie peaked inside. It was filled to the brim. The first thing she saw were papers, apparently copies of Denny's medical records. She flipped through them, realizing she knew them by heart. Continuing her investigation, she set the papers aside and rummaged through the rest of the items. The crossword puzzle he liked to do was inside, as was a mini-sized Scrabble game.

Two articles of clothing—a white shirt and black dress pants—were buried underneath many of the smaller things. She dug them out, jumbled in her arms, and individually folded them neatly. Her eyes were so focused on the task that she didn't see a package limply laid across the sweater she'd knitted him. She finally caught it and picked it up. She turned it over and over in her hand, noting that it was a small yellow package that'd previously been open. A smile came to her lips.

They were the pictures they'd taken the day after he'd gotten the heart.

She broke the already torn seal and pulled the pictures out. The first was purely of Denny in his hospital bed, smiling up at her with the brightest smile she'd ever seen him wear. He'd turned the camera onto her later and, despite her pleads to not take the picture while she buried her head in the side of the bed, he'd snapped a few. Her favorite of herself she found was her head rested on her outstretched arm, half her face hidden, but the other smiling shyly at him as a lock of hair fell across her eyes.

Most of the images were all solos, but as she neared the end, she found they were all couple shots. There was one of Izzie landing a kiss on the cheek with her eyes squeezed shut in a fit of laughter as Denny held her close to him, then another of their heads together, and one of them two just staring at one another.

She stopped immediately at the last one. In this one neither of them were looking at the camera. They were in the middle of a kiss. Izzie's left hand was sprinkled on Denny's cheek, keeping his lips locked with hers. The flash had captured the tear squeezing out of his eye in perfect light so it reflected in the photo. Izzie suddenly flipped the picture over and found a single word written in print on the back. _LOVE. _One word that preached a million sensations and situations and feelings and accidents. One word to blare it all. One word to say it all.

That was all that was needed.

She fought the tears about to rupture, about to leak out again. She couldn't cry, not here, not now. She slipped the pictures back into their case and placed them gently to the side, as if they were delicate glass. She moved back to the box and found a white envelope, her name written a cursive on the front. She fingered it, holding it in her palm. Her fingertips grazed the lettering. She opened it easily, finding it not sealed appropriately, and slid out the crisp sheet. It was a letter…from Denny.

_Dear Izzie,_

_If you've found this then I've either given it to you or I'm no longer with you. I know if I'm gone then you must be upset. I know you; I know what hurts you, and this must hurt you. _

_Izzie, coming into this hospital, I expected to die immediately. But the first time I saw you—wow! You were so beautiful; I fell in love right then. You are everything I'd been waiting for: intelligent, beautiful, spirited, caring, talented, lovable…unrelenting. Because of you I decided to fight. I wasn't going to give up if there was even the slimmest chance I could take you out. You know, I didn't expect for you to love me in return. _

_But thank-you…for loving me. _

_Everything that happened between you and I was unexpected and destined. I can't thank you enough for sticking by me and not giving up on me. When I didn't get the heart the second time, I was ready to give in myself. I was so tired, Iz, I wanted to just die. I didn't want that pain anymore. What kept me alive, Izzie, was you. Seeing you crying when I told you I couldn't go on broke my heart. I can hear your words in my ear as if you're still screaming. "What am I supposed to do if you die?" I couldn't let myself die knowing you didn't believe I didn't loved, that you thought what we had together was a mistake…I couldn't let you regret it. _

_Because I regret nothing. _

_As I told you, for years other people have made my choices for me. But then you came into the picture and I got my own choice. For the first time I got to choose. And, Izzie, baby…I choose you. I chose you and I asked you to marry me. Everything's perfect now. On this, the night of the prom, I have everything I've ever wanted. I have a new heart, my health is getting stronger, and I have you. I love you, Isabel Stevens. I love you and I need you to know that. I need you to believe that even more than you think you do. I'll always be with you._

_Enclosed it a ring I want to give you. See it as an engagement ring, a promise to my love for you. It isn't anything fancy, but it's very important to my family and me. I was given to my mother by her mother. My mother gave it to me, telling me to only give it to the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I want you to keep it, Izzie, because to me you are my wife. You're the One. _

_I love you so much. _

_Remember I choose you,_

_From the infinite space of paradise,_

_Denny Duquette_

A sob curled out of Izzie's throat, her body launching forward. She couldn't breathe; she was trembling. All she could do was reread the letter over and over again. All she wanted was to have another second with him, to feel like he was talking right to her. The paper was limp in her hand, the envelope forgotten in the box. Reading the last paragraph, she realized she hadn't found the ring.

She snatched the envelope and depleted the bulgy object into her palm. There it was, a small ring, so simple but so elegant. The band had small diamonds, barely a caret each, all around the periphery, lined up together all around. In the middle was a classic one-caret blue sapphire. It glistened in the overhead light.

She examined the ring then held out her left hand as if someone was holding it in theirs. She slid the ring onto her ring finger; a perfect match. "I, Isabel Stevens, promise to cherish and adore Denny Duquette for as long as I shall live. To have and to keep, to cherish and to love. You may kiss the bride."

She lightly kissed the letter and slipped it back in its envelope. She smiled at the image of Denny's ring on her finger. For the first time in days, a smile spread across her face. _Isabel Duquette, _she mused. Her smile grew.

XXXX

FIN


End file.
